


Roads and Their Travelers

by mlyn



Series: Gods and Monsters [3]
Category: 13th Warrior (1999)
Genre: Historical, M/M, Slash, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlyn/pseuds/mlyn





	1. Chapter 1

Night. Blackness, close air, humid under a wool blanket. His breathing loud in his ears. The bed was rough against his back when he pushed into it, then absent as he lifted his hips, rhythmic and searching. His groin was on fire, aching and hot, seeking release in the firm hand that was currently teasing him. Ahmed over him, careful with measured strokes, his mouth gentle. He lifted it to speak. Herger felt his breath cool the wet skin of his chest.

"Maybe this time…"

"Shh."

Ahmed's mouth focused again on Herger's chest, but it was too late. Herger's mind drifted away from the feel of Ahmed's hand on him, and Siraj entered his thoughts. His hardness immediately subsided.

Ahmed made a sound and relaxed his mouth, dropping his forehead to his chest. Herger cursed.

"I should not have said anything," Ahmed said apologetically.

"Stop that. It's my prick. It can't hear you, I can."

"All the more reason—"

"Stop." Herger nudged him away and rolled to his feet. He made his way to the water basin in the dark, rubbing his dick. Nothing. Not a twitch. He cursed again and drove the heel of his hand against the wall, ignoring the grumbling that came through from the other side.

Behind him, he could hear Ahmed rustling on the bed. He felt guilty, sensing him lying there, the memory of Ahmed's heat against his thigh still clear. He turned from the wall and splashed some water on his face, shook the drops off, then got back into the bed, sitting up with his back against the wall.

This was the third time this had happened in the week since they'd left Sebta. Ahmed had been so patient, never commenting on his own discomfort when they'd had to give up the attempt. The first couple of times he had even pushed Herger's hand away, protesting that he didn't need taken care of, but this time Herger was determined.

"Don't say anything," he told Ahmed as he stretched out. He rubbed his wet face against Ahmed's belly and felt his quick inhale, heard the rumble of his surprised laugh. And Ahmed didn't protest as Herger moved his mouth lower, down, seeking with rapt intention. Ahmed's agreeability was affirmation to Herger's suspicions. Herger proved his point, as tenderly and efficiently as he could.

Later, Ahmed rolled onto his stomach and reached out to touch Herger's arm. "I will not let you do that every time. We are equals."

"Quit feeling guilty for owning me." This was now Herger's favorite parry to annoy Ahmed. "I will do as I like, and I like doing this."

"It is not about the damn parchment." The curse made Herger smile. "It is about what I enjoy, and I cannot enjoy…that…while you…go without."

His smile faded. "I know."

They were quiet for a while, and then Ahmed leaned over and kissed him, a slow kiss loaded with emotion. Herger sought his mouth even as it drew away, then laid back on his pillow with a sigh. Ahmed rolled over. He favored sleeping on his right side, and that put his back to Herger.

Being satiated, Ahmed fell to sleep quickly. Herger took much longer, and listened to Ahmed's quiet breathing until he lost notice of it.  


 

The dawn brought their first full day in Cordoba. They'd arrived with the last tide the night before, and had gone straight to finding a room. Now Herger dressed and left before Ahmed awoke, intent on clearing his thoughts with the chilled air.

But the air did him no good. He returned to the room without finding any clarity, but he did carry back sweet rolls for their breakfast. Ahmed ate his in bed and watched Herger silently, obviously wanting to say something and not finding the words. Herger did not look at him, knowing his gaze would make Ahmed feel more inept.

So they ate, and Ahmed dressed, and they departed. They agreed to meet back at the room later, then went their separate ways. Ahmed was on a mission to find the man Irene had said would help them, but Herger had little interest in the quest.

He began walking aimlessly through Cordoba, wandering from neighborhoods into a market, and walked among tents and stalls crowded like chickens into a coop. He passed stalls selling food, everything from butchered meat to cooked dishes ready to be consumed on the street. There were also the stalls selling goods and services. He watched a pair of street performers for a while, then ducked into a cook shop for a drink.

He chose a seat against a wall and drank his wine, eyeing the crowd as men ducked in and out of the room. He recognized no one, and no one took notice of him. When his wine was gone, he went back out to the street and continued walking.

He saw street preachers, beggars, royalty and their servants. He watched a cockfight and won money off an inexperienced grifter. When he returned to the rented room at midday, Ahmed was still gone. He sat on the windowsill and looked down at the street, watching more of the spectacle.

He jerked at a hand on his shoulder. Ahmed had come in, and was looking at him worriedly. And no wonder: he had been staring out the window, motionless.

"You startled me," Herger muttered, getting up to face Ahmed, restlessly crossing his arms. His voice sounded strangely low and hoarse to his ears.

"Are you all right?"

Herger nodded, turning away and letting his arms drop. He braced his hands on the windowsill and looked out between the shutters. "I have something on my mind. That is all."

The bed creaked behind him. "Tell me," Ahmed coaxed.

Herger turned to find him with a heavily creased brow, a sight he had grown accustomed to seeing in Jutland during the battles. But Ahmed had rarely looked so vexed since then, and it troubled Herger more to see the expression returned. He crossed to the bed and used his thumb to rub the lines away, smiling at Ahmed's new expression of confusion and annoyance.

His thumb moved down to the pretty mouth and rubbed it too, more softly. The beautiful brown eyes cleared as they gazed at Herger.

"What are you thinking?" Ahmed asked when Herger didn't say a word.

Herger shook his head, not having any words for his mood. "We need a meal."

They found one at the same cook shop where Herger had taken his wine. After, Herger was still restless, so Ahmed suggested more walking. Herger led the way as if into battle, slipping through crowds so swiftly Ahmed sometimes was lost behind. But finally Herger stopped, and was so engrossed in his find that he scarcely noticed Ahmed catching up.

There was a large ring of men before him, and two men in the center of the ring. Obviously a contest of a sort, and it did not take long to find out what kind; grunts and the sound of fists smacking bodies carried over even the terse calls and cheers of the onlookers.

"It's a giant," Herger said with wonder, staring at the combatants.

One man towered over the other, at least three heads higher. He was lean and hard like a carved lodge pole. Long, matted black hair hung in his face, plastered to his skin with sweat and mud. As Herger watched, he bent his shoulder into his opponent's stomach, straightened with the man over his shoulder, then flung him to the ground. The crowd cried out in sympathy as they all heard bones crack. The man was dragged from the circle, windless. The giant stared at the crowd, urging someone to come forward.

Herger lifted the strap of his scabbard over his head.

"Herger, no." He felt Ahmed grasp him by both arms, withholding him. "He will kill you. This is mere sport. Do you want to die in the muck for a crowd's entertainment?"

"Yes. Let me go." Herger pulled, but Ahmed's fingers were strong; even his exercises with a pen had given him something of a physical resource.

"There, you see? The crowd disperses."

The giant was walking away, three men trailing him like ducklings, one dumping money into a purse while another tried to brush mud from the giant's back. Lackeys.

"He will be back," Herger murmured to himself.

"You interested?"

Herger turned at the voice. A brute regarded them from a nearby doorway. He was filthy; hair slicked against his head with need for washing, skin grimy everywhere visible. He picked his teeth with a thumbnail and spat into the road, then stepped forward. As he came into the light, Herger saw that the one thing that glittered on him was the look in his hard, shiny eyes.

"I know who you can talk to, to get inside."

"Inside what?" Herger asked, ignoring Ahmed's uneasiness.

"Inside this business. You think these things happen by accident? That Urak was challenged by some unknowing bastard?"

Herger quickly grasped the idea. "You set it up. And encourage the betting."

"Not me. But for some gold, I can show you to the man."

Herger didn't take the bait. The man would likely rob him in a back alley than fulfill a promise. But he did note the giant's name: Urak.

"I can find him on my own." He turned away, Ahmed falling into stride with him. The brute called something after them, but Herger did not heed.

Ahmed kept pace with him, speaking low and in Norse for privacy. "Why do you do this? The youth in Jutland I understand now, but a street fight? What would this serve?"

Herger glanced at him as he walked quickly through the crowd. "You do not remember when Buliwyf died?"

"I do!"

Ahmed had stopped, raising his voice with indignation. Herger stopped and returned a few paces, bringing Ahmed out of the path of a harried butcher with a gutted swine thrown over his shoulder. Leaning against the wall of a smokehouse, he lowered his voice.

"My people do not die quietly in our beds, a straw death. That is not our way, and to do so is shameful."

"I remember this," Ahmed said.

"And for months now, I have done nothing—"

"And dying in the street is more noble?"

"Yes!"

Ahmed glared. Herger used his furious silence and continued: "He is a _giant_. It does not matter the circumstances; if word returns to my homeland that I fought with a giant, they will speak of my name to generations of children. I grew up with these tales. I would become part of them."

"And who will take that word back to your people?"

"You will!"

Ahmed recoiled, his eyes round as coins in his face. "ME?" Herger could not understand his error, but before he could speak, Ahmed went on. "No. Not this. I will not stand by you while you get yourself killed. One of these fights was enough for me."

"But I have shown you that I am capable of a win over a giant. You do not believe I can do this?"

Asking Ahmed to confirm his lack of faith was a sticking point. He hesitated, and in that space Herger heard his name being called.

He lifted his head, and through the crowd saw two tall men approaching. The black and red heads were instantly familiar. He cried out, raising a fist in joyous greeting.

Edgtho shouldered a matron out of his path and met Herger's fierce embraced, their hands tight on each other's arms. As Weath joined them, Edgtho turned to Ahmed.

"We thought you dead by now, Arab. It is for the pleasure of the gods that you remain alive."

"It has been a narrow slip of luck," Herger laughed, holding Weath close to him. There was the smell of ale about the Celt, and he was unsteady on his feet. "We have many stories to tell. Let us get some wine and find a spot to rest, eh?"

Their spot to rest ended up being another taverna, where they stayed for the rest of the afternoon and into the night, taking their late meal there and consuming a sea of wine. Weath yielded to sleep shortly after supper, having been drinking for most of the day, and laid down unconscious on the table while Herger and Edgtho continued talking. Ahmed listened for the most part, and on occasion added to Herger's recount of their stories.

Herger and Ahmed told them of Ahmed's attack by the other Northmen, and of their trip by river and over land to Constantinople, and of the events that had transpired there. By the time they began talking about their journeying in the desert lands, Herger was well in his cups and not mindful of what he said.

He knew Edgtho suspected the truth of his relations with Ahmed. Herger had not been private about his feelings while they were in Jutland and the Arab was still new to them. Now, nearly a year later, there would be little doubt that they had stayed companions for more than adventuring. Given this, he had little guard up as he talked.

He was in the midst of talking about the snake bite when Edgtho interrupted. "You are fine now. The Arab took care of you?"

"No, that is the thing! I was lying in an alley in Annaba, crazy with pain from the snake's poison, and—"

He broke off, realizing what he had been about to say. Edgtho stared at him.

"And what?"

Ahmed saw Herger's blank expression and filled in the silence. "It was some time before I could help him."

Herger looked at him, then at Edgtho. Edgtho looked confused by Herger's sudden silence, and suspicious at Ahmed's intervention. "Yes, that's it," Herger said.

Edgtho respected this, but he watched Herger as Herger hurriedly emptied his mug.

Herger got up and went to the proprietor to settle their bill. All the food and drink they had consumed combined for a great amount, and he found himself giving over his last coins to pay. Ahmed had money, but Herger hated asking him. He would need to find some way to get more.

He went back to the table, finding Edgtho rousing Weath. "You have rooms?" Herger asked.

Edgtho shrugged. "Weath has been spending all his money on wenches and drink. He sleeps with them. I sleep where I may."

"Come back with us. The floor is not so comfortable, but it is a roof over your head, and free."

Edgtho looked uneasily at Ahmed, who nodded to support Herger's offer. Edgtho accepted.

With Weath propped between the two of them, Herger and Edgtho followed Ahmed back to the inn. They woke Weath enough for him to stumble up the stairs to the room, then he stretched out on the floor and began snoring.

Edgtho used his boot to turn Weath onto his side, stopping the snoring instantly. With a wry smile at the other two, he removed his gear and weapons, and lay down with his cloak spread over him.

Herger undressed down to nothing, knowing that he would be warm enough in the night, with the climate and Ahmed's heat next to him. Ahmed himself turned bashful and kept everything on, then climbed onto the bed after Herger. He lay over the covers while Herger was under them. They were both aware of Edgtho watching them.

"Goodnight," Ahmed bid him, and blew out the candle.  


 

They did not have an easy night. Weath's snoring started up again occasionally, stopping only when Edgtho could turn him over. Finally Weath woke completely and stumbled out of the room to orient himself, demanding a piss pot. Edgtho followed and Herger, lying awake from the noise, could hear him explaining the situation to Weath.

Ahmed rolled over to face him. "We cannot do this again."

"They are my brethren. I should kick them out into the street?"

"We should get a bigger room, at least!"

Herger looked over at Ahmed and smiled. "That is a good idea."

Flattered, Ahmed let his dark frown disappear. Herger rolled over to face him and brought himself closer, eyes closing as he met Ahmed's mouth. They kissed gently. Ahmed brought his hand up and touched Herger's face, pushing his fingers into his hair.

Weath's voice startled them. "Valorous gods! Are you still chasing the Arab's dirty tail?"

Ahmed pulled away hurriedly, glancing over his shoulder at Weath. Herger propped himself up on his elbows and glared.

"Fine thanks I get for letting your stinking, snorting ass rest on my floor. Get out if you don't want to be here."

"So I will, too." Weath picked up his few belongings and left, brushing past Edgtho at the door. Edgtho gave Herger a long-suffering look and gathered his cloak, following Weath.

"Stupid inconsiderate brute." But Herger could not let him go off angry. He kicked the blanket away and got out of the bed, quickly gathering his clothes.

"Where are you going?"

Herger thought that should be obvious. He didn't answer Ahmed immediately, not until Ahmed repeated himself and Herger was pulling on his boots.

"To make amends. They are all I have in this world—apart from you," he added.

"Should I…"

"No, no." Herger pressed him back onto the bed. "Get your sleep." He kissed Ahmed again, then quickly left.

He did not have to go far. Weath and Edgtho were sitting at a table in the common room of the inn, Weath already with a mug of ale in front of him. Edgtho glanced up and nodded at Herger as he approached.

"My words were hasty," Herger said, sitting at the table.

Weath squinted at him, mouth twisting as he swallowed a drink. "But you do not deny it."

"No. You know me." Herger had formed his ways long before Ahmed had joined them.

"It seems to me…" Edgtho accepted Weath's offered mug and drank from it himself, then turned to Herger as he finished. "If you know no shame from lying with the Arab, or with any man, then you should not be ashamed to tell us the rest of your tale."

Herger considered this, and looked at Weath. Weath nodded, even though he had been asleep when Herger had told his stories.

Herger felt sweat break out under his arms and on his temples. He took a drink himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then nodded.

"While I was on that street in Annaba…slavers took me. It was a week before Ahmed tracked me. A man bought me, an Arab swordsmith."

There was silence around the table. Herger looked at them both, but, unable to read their expressions, found himself continuing desperately. "He did not do anything terrible to me. Nothing more than anyone would do to their property."

"Property," Weath repeated dully. His face had taken on an expression of disgust.

Herger nodded. He lowered his gaze and took another drink, feeling low and scared, knowing now what they were thinking.

"Herger…" Edgtho began, then stopped for a time as he thought. "You must do something to counter this shame."

"I know, but I have not been able to think of what. Until today: I saw a giant, taking on fights in the street. He is paid for winning. I doubt anyone has beaten him in a long time."

"Does the Arab—Eben—own you now? Did the savages make some foul business for ownership of you?" Weath was caught up in his own thoughts and had not heard about the giant, but it was a fair question. Edgtho looked at Herger expectantly.

"Ahmed has a paper, from the woman in Constantinople. It is fake, but Siraj believed it."

"But to appearances, Eben owns you," Edgtho said.

Herger did not like where this was going. "To no appearances. No one else has seen the paper!"

They all fell silent again. Herger put his head in his hands, staring at the table. He felt sick, having to tell his friends these things.

Finally Edgtho spoke again. "A fight with the giant may be enough. But I think more, maybe; pick up trading, find a good battle somewhere. And I think you should leave the Arab."

Herger lifted his head quickly. "Absolutely not. He saved my life!"

"Shh!" Weath looked nervously around the room. But at the late hour, hardly anyone was about; it was doubtful even the landlord could hear them.

"Leave him for a short time," Edgtho continued. "We will accompany you. He will be fine on his own here; it is mostly an Arab city." He stopped and looked at Herger with that same expectant face.

Herger looked between him and Weath, and saw their resolve. And he could feel his own heart, yearning for something outside of Arab courts or drinking himself stupid with boredom. He nodded slowly.  


 

They tried to plan Herger's reparation, but Herger did not want to do so with Ahmed around, and there was little for Ahmed to do alone while they were all still so new to the city.

They had a late breakfast, all four in the common room of the inn, then Ahmed excused himself to copy his letter of introduction from Irene. Herger told him Edgtho and Weath had invited to give him a tour of the city, so the three Northmen went off on their own.

After some time in the crowded streets, Herger looked through the market crowd and spotted the man who had offered him help in arranging an encounter with the giant. Gesturing to Edgtho and Weath, they slipped through the crowd and surrounded the man without a sound. Herger tapped on his shoulder and smiled when the man turned, a sour look on his ugly face.

"Show me to your master," Herger said.

"We have nothing to offer you," the man said with disgust, and made to turn away. But Edgtho pressed one of his blades against the soft flesh of the man's flank, and he stiffened. Giving Herger another look, he nodded.

With all three fast on his heels, the man led them to a poor part of the city, and there, to a private building. It was leaning to one side and had barely survived a fire, but the man led them inside without hesitation.

The meeting was brief. The men spoke Low Saxon, much of which Edgtho understood and Herger partially grasped. It turned out later that they had wanted all three to fight the giant, but Edgtho had refused on the behalf of himself and Weath. This contest was for Herger's benefit alone. The men had been doubtful of an equally matched fight, but it seemed that Herger had been imposing enough, with his sword ready on his back and a determined look in his eye. The contest was planned for five days later.

Herger became giddy with nervous excitement. He led the way out of the building, and started intently down the alley. He had some intention to find Ahmed, tell him what had happened, but felt a touch on his shoulder before he'd gotten a few steps away. Turning, he saw Edgtho, with Weath, uneasy, over his shoulder.

"Keep this from the Arab. He will only make trouble."

"I know him better than—"

"But you know he will complain if you tell him this." Herger stayed silent this time as Edgtho's words reached him. Edgtho continued. "We know him, too. Perhaps not as well, but we are not ignorant of his ways."

Herger did know Ahmed, but some things he preferred not to accept, and Edgtho did not have such blindness. "I accept this," Herger said grudgingly.

They continued on, at a slower pace than Herger had originally set. When they reached the inn, Ahmed was gone. Edgtho and Weath decided to depart again, to find some sport or entertainment, and to keep face Herger could not refuse.

Naturally, Weath wanted a woman. Edgtho was well used to him following his dick; Edgtho himself felt few such urges, so let Weath have the deciding hand in their nightly activities. And Herger knew he looked bad enough in their eyes; better to go along with the decision, though he had no desire to reveal his other secrets.

What ended up happening was Weath going into a closet with some strumpet, and Edgtho sitting down to a drink with Herger. They worked on emptying their mugs in silence for a while, and then Edgtho covered the grunting, moaning sounds around them with his own conversation.

"Have you lost your taste for women?"

Herger had to think about how to answer that. "No," he said finally, deciding simplicity was safest.

"Why don't you take one of them?"

Edgtho's interference was grating. "Why don't you?" Herger said in return. He knew Edgtho had no more an answer than he did, and that the question was as pointless to him. Edgtho nodded respectfully.

Herger took another drink, then decided he'd had enough of the questions. "Tell me what you and Weath have been doing all this time."

As quiet as Edgtho's nature was, Herger could tell he enjoyed the shift in subject. He talked quietly but candidly, about their voyage from Jutland. They had sailed south, staying on trade ships and spending days on shore. Occasionally they had taken trips inland, finding fortune and entertainment away from the coasts, sometimes spending weeks at a time in one place or another. And so such a trip had taken them to Cordoba, where they had been for only a few days longer than Herger and Ahmed.

His timing always perfect, Weath appeared just as Edgtho finished talking. Herger felt a jerk of surprise when he looked up. He'd forgotten Weath's comfort in his own skin, and so the sight of the Celt standing by the table, naked as the day he was born and laughing heartily, made Herger realize how much things in his own world had changed.

"You want a go at her, Joyous?" Weath stole his mug and drank deeply.

"I can find my own fuck, thank you." Herger took his mug back. Weath laughed anyway, smacked his friends on the shoulders, and went back to the little closet.

"Time was, you would have joined him and had her together," Edgtho observed quietly.

Herger managed a smile. "We all get old. My knees aren't what they used to be."

By the time Weath's allotment with the whore had ended, Herger was loose on his feet from drinking steadily. Edgtho had always had a thick head for drink—nothing got through it—and he and Weath watched out for Herger as they made their way through the city. Citizens were frantically making late purchases as shops and stalls closed for the night. Women begged for just one more soup bone, while men marched home or struggled to enter the crowded cook shops and tavernas. The time for supper was at hand, and they would have difficulty finding a table anywhere.

"We should have stayed put," Weath said, holding Herger's elbow as they navigated a particularly deep quagmire.

"Ahmed will be waiting," Herger said irritably. He did not understand why Edgtho and Weath seemed to resent Ahmed now. They had come to accept him in Jutland, but now he was like a leper. It was making Herger angry.

In truth Ahmed had kept a table for them, and food and drink were brought when they joined him. Herger's bad mood faded as he saw Ahmed smiling at him, clearly pleased.

"We celebrate tonight. I have a patron once more!" Ahmed announced.

"Good cheer!" Herger raised his mug, a grin breaking across his face. Edgtho and Weath toasted Ahmed as well, but Herger paid them no attention now. He was getting drunk, he felt happy, and Ahmed looked so content. He watched Ahmed steadily as the meal went on, enjoying Ahmed laughing and taking part in Weath's jokes, sharing stories with Edgtho about their travels, hailing the serving girls for more of everything. Ahmed was generous with his money, and by the end of the meal, Herger was quite out of his wits.

He opened his eyes and blearily saw the steps under his feet. Ahmed was murmuring in his ear, holding him steady, guiding him upward. Herger raised his head and mumbled "I can do it," and managed the rest of the steps, only tripping once.

"Here. Sit— careful, do not hit your head— I will remove your boots." Herger leaned against the wall next to the bed and watched Ahmed kneel before him. He reached out and pushed his fingers through Ahmed's hair, leaning forward when Ahmed raised his head. Ahmed met him for a deep kiss, messy and wet and thoroughly satisfying. Herger bit his lips and growled in the back of his mouth, trying to pull him closer.

"Yes— Herger, let me—" Ahmed pulled away, jerking Herger's boots off with renewed intent. As soon as his feet were bare, Herger pushed himself around on the bed, stretching out lengthwise and making room for Ahmed. Ahmed was shedding his outer robe, then sat to pull off his boots. Herger was within reach, and started pulling his shirt up to get a touch of skin.

"Where are the others?" he asked, only half-caring.

"I paid for another room." Ahmed flung his second boot to the ground and turned, stretching out as well. He wrapped an arm around Herger's waist and burrowed his hand under the shirt, making a pleased sound when he could touch Herger's warm back. "We are alone, all night."

Ahmed obviously had planned this, Herger thought as Ahmed moved closer and they kissed deeply. He was hoping for the same kind of nights they had spent in Constantinople. But Constantinople was many days and a long distance from here and now. Many things had changed.

"Here— please—" Ahmed took his hand and pressed it between them, making Herger feel his hardness. Herger touched without thinking, feeling a familiar creeping stiffness come up his spine.

Ahmed moaned, breath ruffling Herger's hair, mouth pressed against his cheekbone. Herger pulled Ahmed's pants down far enough to get his hand inside. The position was awkward. Hard to move his hand when there was no space left between them. Strange, since he felt so distant.  


 

When Herger awoke, Ahmed was gone. New patronage, he remembered as he adjusted the blanket that Ahmed had put over him sometime in the night. Ahmed would be gone all day.

He watched the light grow in the room until he could see glints of the sun through the shutters. At last his bladder and stomach complained too much for him to ignore them, and he threw off the blanket to use the pot and find his kinsmen.

Normally his clothes were not so undisturbed in the morning, he reflected. He had to force his sleep-stupid fingers to untie the the laces of his pants.

He heard Weath's voice out in the hall, then banging on the door and a hail for him to come out. He shouted back and finished pissing, then grabbed his things.

"We must talk about this contest," Edgtho said as they sat down to eat. "Prepare for the possibilities of winning and losing."

"He'll win, of course," Weath said emphatically.

"Of course." Edgtho was so good at handling Weath. It made Herger grin to see it.

"He's right," he said to Weath. "We must be prepared."

Ironically, it was easier to conceive of what they would do in a death scenario. If he died, Edgtho and Weath would split his possessions. Ahmed would get the Arabian dagger. And he would have to be told immediately, Herger emphasized. No matter what their feelings toward Ahmed, he would be told if something happened to Herger. The other two agreed.

"But if you win, they will expect you to take the giant's place, and fight as he does," Edgtho said.

"What's wrong with that?" Weath shoved a piece of ham in his mouth and washed it down with water.

"It would be another kind of slavery. The giant is not free to command himself, to call his own battles," Edgtho explained. Herger had understood this before Weath's question, but Edgtho was faster than he at getting the words out.

"So if you win," Weath pointed at Herger with a biscuit, "you will have to escape for your freedom?"

"So it appears."

"I propose this." Edgtho was a natural leader, when he wanted to lead. "We celebrate your winning. The next day we leave on horseback."

"Where do we go?" Weath was as excited as ever, obviously hungry for a new adventure. They both looked to Herger.

"I have no ideas. The plan all along was to get here, to Cordoba."

"The Arab's plan?" Edgtho sounded disapproving, but Herger nodded anyway.

"He is not your husband, Joyous," Edgtho continued severely. "Go where you wish. I believe we should take the story of your success back to our people. That is the aim of this, after all."

"Back to Jutland." Herger was annoyed at Edgtho's words. Now they were contemplating fleeing Cordoba, and although Ahmed's part in the plans had not been discussed, he felt he knew their opinions already. The entire meal had felt like plotting deceit and treachery.

"What else do you want?" Edgtho asked skeptically.

Herger was silent for a moment, and watched Edgtho and Weath look wary as he continued thinking. Finally he drained his cup of water and said, "I want the Arab to come with us."

"But he has a new patron. He will not want to leave." Weath had his argument ready; any excuse to leave the Arab behind.

"It does not matter. He will come. Even if I have to force him, he will be glad for it later." Herger made sure his tone allowed no further argument, and it worked. Edgtho nodded, and they finished their meal.  


 

The next days passed slowly. Between meals and entertainment, Herger tried to spend time preparing for the contest. He and Edgtho used each other as practice for swordplay, while Weath checked over Herger's armor and weapons, and made improvements. Each night Ahmed returned looking happy and at ease, like a man would look if he had spent a whole day sitting on a pillow drinking wine. He was so satisfied with himself that he did not notice any of the looks or low words that passed between the Northmen.

Finally, five days had passed and they had to prepare for the contest. Herger dressed carefully that morning, making minor adjustments to the way everything fit and hung, more careful now than he had been going into any battle. This one mattered. His name depended on it.

Weath had taken Herger's blades to be sharpened, while Edgtho had oiled his leathers and put a shine on the bits of armor he'd acquired. By the time they left the inn, Herger looked so fine that people stopped in the street to watch him go by, the striking blond Northman warrior with a pair of companions, all of them looking like they courted death hourly and won without fail.

They went to the intersection where Herger had last seen the giant, but no crowd was there; not even the grotesque Herger had spoken with. But the hour was at hand. Irritated, the trio went on to the leaning building where they had met the men of business before. The rooms were bare, they found: all business cleared out.

Back on the street, Weath spotted and pounced upon a street wretch watching them. They questioned the boy closely, and he quickly revealed the place where the giant lived. Releasing him without harm, the Northmen went on.

Herger and Edgtho agreed that the two companions should wait at the doors while Herger went up to confront the giant. By now Herger's ire had been thoroughly raised, and he ascended the stairs without hesitation. This was his opportunity to win fame for himself, and the giant's cowardice was ruining it. Reaching the floor that the boy had spoken of, he strode up to the only door and pounded upon it.

"Giant! Reveal yourself!" He waited, then pounded more. There was no sound within.

He waited for a moment, silent, listening and thinking. Finally he pulled his sword and took a step back, then kicked the door in.

Stench assaulted him. He gasped and held a hand to his face, then took a few steps forward. With the air released by the door, the room was not so bad. He walked in.

Rats scrambled away into the dim corners and flies buzzed noisily. He glanced at the table, eyeing the rotting food left in dishes, then looked over his shoulder. There was a heap of blankets on the bed.

Holding his sword ready and his free hand over his mouth, he approached carefully. When he was close enough, he prodded the mound with his sword point, then nudged a few of the unmoving blankets away. A blackened foot appeared, hanging out over the end of the bed.

He eyed it for a moment, then circled around to the side and uncovered more of the body. Finally, his suspicions were confirmed: black bubos around the neck and armpits. The eyes stared directly at him, glassy and unseeing, between the matted ropes of hair.

Herger breathed out as much of the poisoned air as was left in his lungs and made quickly for the door.

Weath and Edgtho looked at him when he reached the door and sucked in gulping mouthfuls of clean air. "A torch, a spark," he gasped at them. "Burn it down. There's plague within."  


 

In truth a fire would be too dangerous, and could spread throughout the city, so Herger took a short dagger and carved an X on the door. That was as much as he could do. They walked away from the building at a quick pace, feeling as though death was on their heels.

"You realize what you've done?" Weath asked as they began to encounter the market crowds. Herger gave him a glance. "You've defeated the giant without drawing your blade. People will say it was magic."

"No one knows," Herger replied.

"Not yet." Weath grinned broadly.

Herger had not considered the prospect; he'd thought of the situation as merely a draw, no clear winner. But he knew the power of Weath's silver tongue, and the prospect of such a rumor spreading was thrilling. _Behold Herger the Northman, defeating foes by mere thought._ The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He grinned back at Weath.  


 

Weath's plan was simple. They found a cook shop, where Edgtho and Herger sat at a free table. Weath went around the room and spread the news through the crowd: telling one man, letting others hear, then repeating the news to ever-increasing groups. Some were skeptical, others unimpressed, but Herger always saw glances come his way every time Weath repeated the news. Some people approached to speak with him, asking questions and congratulating him on his success. After a few hours Edgtho excused himself, leaving Herger to deal with the people alone.

Edgtho returned with Ahmed. Herger saw him between the shoulders of a couple of Frankish thieves. He stood, grinning happily, and clapped Ahmed on the shoulder as he sat down at the table. The two Franks lingered while Herger called for wine.

"It was Urak that you killed?" one asked.

Herger turned toward the speaker, putting his knee in connection with Ahmed's leg under the table. He felt Ahmed press back. "Yes, that was his name."

"I was meant to contest with him yesterday."

"Now you know what happened." Herger couldn't keep the grin from his face.

"But does this not mean that I have as much power in his death as you? I arranged for a contest first."

Herger stood, his grin fading. The Frank's companion reached toward his belt.

"If you have a dispute, say it now," Herger said in a low voice. At the corner of his eye, he saw Edgtho come back to the table and stand close to the Franks. The Franks looked at Edgtho, Ahmed, then finally Herger, and the first Frank moved his hand away from his belt.

"Perhaps you should tell your Celt to keep his tongue behind his teeth," he said. The other Frank threw Herger a dirty glance, and then they turned away.

Ahmed stood as well, waiting until Herger looked at him. "I think we should leave."

But Herger sat. "I am not afraid. We stay." The wine was brought, and he poured for himself, Edgtho, and Weath. The attention continued for hours, with no more confrontations occurring.  


 

Ahmed's generosity with his money had not ended, and all week Edgtho and Weath had slept separately from Ahmed and Herger. Herger had been enjoying his sleep during that time, but now he and Ahmed went to their room too early for his tastes. He was not tired, and in fact wondered if he would be before seeing dawn again. He had too much on his mind after the events of the day. But, for some strange reason, Ahmed was insistent.

Herger shut the door and leaned against it, watching under lowered eyelids as Ahmed began disrobing. He stayed in place, heart sinking as Ahmed's desires began to make themselves known.

Ahmed walked naked across the room and stopped in front of Herger, reaching for his shirt.

"Ahmed."

"Mmm?"

Herger waited until his shirt cleared his head and he had shaken his hair out of his eyes. "I am not in the mood."

Ahmed paused to smile at him, then slipped his fingers under the waistband of Herger's pants. He drew closer and pressed his lips to Herger's, slipping his tongue between them and coaxing his way into Herger's mouth. He didn't pull away to speak, only let his lips move against Herger's mouth. "I want a second chance."

Another lengthy, lazy kiss. Herger said, "What for?"

"To give—" Now Ahmed seemed to lose his nerve. "For you to…make love to me."

Any warm feelings that had grown from the kisses were gone now. "Why?" Herger asked, the first question that came to his mind.

Ahmed was taken aback. "Because— because I want to. I know that is what you have wanted."

"Maybe at one time, but—" Herger stepped by Ahmed and went to the bed, sitting and bracing his arms on his knees. "You know how things have been."

"That is why I want to try." Ahmed followed him, sitting next to him and placing a hand on his back. "It's what you wanted. Something different. And it is…you are not…in the same position," he ended hesitantly.

"I'm not getting fucked, you mean."

Ahmed didn't say anything, but he did squeeze Herger's shoulder.

Herger sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. There was a stone in his throat, and swallowing would not move it. "I cannot, Ahmed. I'm sorry."

Ahmed was quiet, not moving or speaking while Herger lifted his head from his hands. But when he tried to stand, Ahmed tightened his grip on his shoulder. "No, stay." He slipped off the bed and knelt, reaching for Herger's boots.

"I am not tired," Herger protested, with little strength. Ahmed ignored him and pulled off his boots, then pressed him down to lie supine. Then he stretched out on the bed next to him. Coaxed by his hands, Herger put his head on Ahmed's shoulder and closed his eyes. He could hear Ahmed's heart beat, and feel the hair on his chest tickle his nose.

Now that Ahmed's intentions had changed, he felt better. There was no pressure to perform, not even in the ways he had been pleasuring Ahmed recently. He turned onto his side and pressed against Ahmed, resting a hand on his chest.

"Ahmed…" There was a murmur of acknowledgment rumbling in the chest under his ear. "I think I should return to my homeland."

The heartbeat increased. Ahmed swallowed audibly, then said, "Soon?"

"I know you just found this new patron, but—"

"Would you return, or stay there?"

"—you can find— what?" Herger lifted his head, propping himself up on an elbow. "Ahmed…" Now it looked like Ahmed had a stone in his throat. He refused to look at Herger. He reached up and touched Ahmed's jaw, hoping to turn his gaze. "You miss my meaning. You will come with me."

Ahmed did glance at him, but briefly. "Back to Jutland."

"Yes."

Ahmed laughed, but it was a shaking sound. He lifted a hand to his head and touched Herger's fingers, pulling them away and clasping them to his chest. "I never thought I would go back there. I left to return to _my_ homeland."

Herger pressed his lips together. Ahmed had every reason to refuse, he realized. He was asking a great deal.

"Do not answer now," he said, and lay back down. "Think on this."

Ahmed nodded, but he released Herger's hand. They remained silent now, lying together but consumed in their own thoughts.

Ahmed fell asleep, but Herger remained awake, as he thought he would. He listened to Ahmed breathing gently, his chest rising and falling under Herger's head and hand. Herger moved that hand slowly over him, exploring the hills and valley's of Ahmed's form in a ritual that was as soothing to him as it was to Ahmed.

Finally he raised himself up and clasped Ahmed's shoulder, shaking gently. He had thought long enough, and come to a decision. "Ahmed, wake up."

A hitch in the breathing, a slight jerk of the whole body, and Ahmed turned his head. "What is it?" he asked sleepily.

"You may choose our destination, and I will not argue. Where do you want to go? Jutland or Baghdad?"

"Herger…" He was annoyed at being awakened, but consented to answer the question without much complaint. "It is complicated. We have different desires."

"But you have wanted to go to Baghdad."

Ahmed sighed heavily. Herger nearly apologized, and was about to tell him to go back to sleep when he sat up straight and looked down at Herger.

"I have thought about this."

Herger pushed himself up and knelt on the mattress, facing Ahmed. It was fully dark and they could hardly see each other, but the formality mattered to them both right now. "Yes."

"In all this time, I have not often thought of my family or friends. I knew in my heart that when I set out from Baghdad I would likely not see them again. It took me long to realize it, I know this, but I have.

"I have as much of a home there as wherever you and I lay our heads. We may go to Jutland, if you wish it."

Herger could not withhold the smile breaking across his face. "I do," he whispered. "I do wish it." Thoughts raced through his mind: seeing his homeland again, riding and hunting and fishing in the familiar woods and fjords, getting back into the business of trade with Edgtho and Weath. Life had been exciting with Ahmed at times, but also exceedingly dull. He was getting old and wanted a routine again; it had served him well for long enough.

"Now go to sleep," Ahmed grumbled, turning his back to Herger as he lay down and pulled up the blanket.


	2. Chapter 2

Ahmed's patron had been surprisingly accommodating, Ahmed told Herger as they rode northwest to the coast. He'd promised to send a letter Ahmed wrote to Baghdad, and paid him very generously for the few days of work he had done. Ahmed believed there was a reason for his generosity: one of the patron's very young daughters had set her eye on Ahmed, and Ahmed's unforeseen departure would be a welcome solution to the problem of handling the girl's emotions.

Herger had been nervous with Edgtho and Weath in their party, considering their treatment of Ahmed in Cordoba. But their departure from the crowded, unfamiliar city had been a blessing: Edgtho and Weath were more at home while traveling, and their dispositions improved dramatically. Within a day they were laughing merrily and trading jokes with Ahmed, challenging each other to small contests, finding joy and amusement in everything. It lightened Herger's spirit, as did being on Hross again. Like Edgtho and Weath, he hated being bored. It had taken him so very low, he realized now. Even traveling in the caravan he had been unhappy, because he knew then that the destination was another city. For the first time in months, he felt truly free of his burdens.

Ahmed looked over his shoulder and caught Herger sighing deeply. He slowed Asiya and pulled up, pitching his voice low enough for only Herger to hear.

"I had not thought I would see that smile again."

Herger flashed his teeth. "It has been coaxed out by the favor of the gods."

"Praise be to them." Ahmed bowed his head.

Herger's eyes widened. Ahmed had never, _never_ praised Herger's gods. It was blasphemy in Ahmed's eyes. To do so now, meant… Herger was not certain.

"You praise my gods, Little Brother?"

"In a manner of speaking." Ahmed smiled, then kicked Asiya. Edgtho was calling for the Arab, wanting to show him something ahead on the trail.

It meant that the distinctions of gods and sins did not matter to Ahmed. He had said as much before, but this was complete proof, gracefully given. Herger could not stop marveling at it, even as he was distracted by the jovial trickery going on among his companions ahead of him.

Having had their fill of people for a while, the party declined to spend their nights in any town as the journeyed to the sea. With the exception of gathering provisions, they avoided civilization. Herger felt peace steal upon him every hour he went without seeing an unfamiliar face.

His change of mood was evident one night, a few days' ride from the sea. Ahmed had gone to a nearby stream to wash, and Herger found them needing fresh water in their skins. As a result, they found themselves alone, far enough from camp that they could not be seen or heard by Edgtho or Weath.

Ahmed was kneeling on the bank without his shirt, throwing water onto his chest and back and scrubbing his face and hair. Herger stepped up just as he finished, and watched him sit back on his heels and let the water go streaming down his body. Herger's fingers twitched, but he kept the water skins in his grip.

"Feel better?" he asked. Ahmed wiped his hands through his hair, which had gotten some length on it in recent months, and pushed the water out of the curly strands.

"Much," Ahmed sighed. He tried wiping the rest of the water off his arms and chest, then pulled on his shirt. Finally he picked up his scabbard and gauntlets, then stood and looked at Herger with a curious face.

Herger switched one of the skins to his other hand and reached up, tugging on a free curl.

Ahmed reddened. "This is why I wear my shumagg. I look like a camel, hair sticking out all over."

That made Herger laugh. He smoothed the curls down and held Ahmed by the back of the neck, kissing him easily. "You taste better than a camel."

Ahmed hummed and stepped closer, kissing him in return. "What else?"

"If I remember…you feel better than a camel, too. But—" Herger lifted the water skins. "We must put this aside for now, and return before Weath comes looking for us."

Ahmed shuddered at the thought, making Herger laugh. They walked back to the camp together.

Nothing more happened between Herger and Ahmed privately that night. There was no opportunity, being that Edgtho and Weath were with them the entire time. They arranged bedrolls and turned in, one after another, all within a few feet of each other and the fire. As Ahmed arranged his sword and pulled a blanket over his boots, Herger gave him a regretful smile, which he returned.

Over the next day, and the one after, they encountered more people with settlements on the edges of towns and villages. Herger felt restless and was easily irked, which told him that his appetites were returning, and the inability to satisfy them was toying with his good humor. But he had to put his emotions aside and concentrated on navigating through the woods and fields, avoiding property and people as they went.

In the middle of the third day they neared La Coruña, the port city on the tip of the country. Herger and Ahmed stopped to make camp, while Edgtho and Weath went on to inquire about passage north on a ship.

They fell back into old routines, Ahmed gathering wood and starting a fire while Herger unloaded the horses. It was still early in the day, before dusk. They were not accustomed to making camp so early, so both found themselves without anything to do after their few chores. Herger set about changing this; he dug into his gear while Ahmed reclined against his bedroll. He looked much like a caliph in his harem, except that the harem was populated by trees and bushes.

"I am going to set a trap for our dinner. Would you like to come along?"

They walked quietly through the woods away from camp, not speaking, relying on looks and silent gestures to communicate. Finally Herger found a suitable spot and dropped to the forest floor, quickly laying out his rope trap. Then they retreated to a place behind some towering trees and settled down to watch the site.

Ahmed breathed out a short laugh. Herger turned his head and rested it on his folded arms.

"This reminds me of when we were in Jutland. I was lying on the ground, like this," Ahmed whispered. "And you and Buliwyf were enjoying each other by the fire."

Herger grinned. He remembered that well, and remembered Ahmed confessing that he had watched them. Even all this time later, thinking of Ahmed watching them made him feel warm.

"I'd like a separate camp fire again right now," he murmured ruefully.

"Edgtho and Weath may not be back for hours…and we are far enough away from camp anyway."

Herger shifted again. Ahmed's inviting voice was not making him any more comfortable. And he was watching Herger with a certain expression, hopeful and nervous.

Finally Herger turned onto his side and said, "What is it you want?"

Ahmed reddened slightly but answered without hesitation. "For things to be as they were before. And more. I offered—"

"I remember your offer." Herger touched Ahmed's shoulder, trying to gentle his tone. "It is true I have been feeling more like my old self, but…the dirt is hardly the place to resume our relations."

Ahmed's brow darkened. Instead of genially agreeing, as Herger expected, he moved quickly across the distance between them and pressed Herger onto his back. Laying himself half on top of Herger, he bent and took his mouth in a kiss that was immediately fierce and relentless. It was hard enough that Herger, even with his beard, could feel Ahmed's stubble scraping his mouth.

Just as quickly, Ahmed pulled back. His eyes glittered a handbreadth away.

"I tire of your excuses. You fear getting dirt on your back?" He laughed mockingly. "That is not the Herger I know. I know what pleasure you are capable of, for myself and for you. Find it within you again, or I will search it out by whatever means necessary."

Herger felt his stomach drop and his groin tighten. He reached up and threaded his fingers through Ahmed's hair, and was about to pull him back for another mouth-tingling kiss when a noise startled them. It was some animal, just beyond their cover of trees, shrieking in fear.

 _The trap_. Herger sighed and let his head fall back to the earth, while Ahmed grunted his displeasure and got to his feet.  


 

That night they had a good meal of roasted hare, as well as some fresh bread and fruit Edgtho had brought back from La Coruña. The news from the port was that they had not yet secured room on a ship, but Weath had found some promising information, and he would return the next day with Edgtho to continue their work. Hearing this, Herger looked at Ahmed to see his response to the news, and felt his face heat at Ahmed's determined smirk. Surprised at his own reaction, Herger looked down and put himself to his food.

Even after the meal, Herger noticed an odd determination in Ahmed. They sat around the fire, drinking and talking, for several hours more. Ahmed was usually the first to go to his bedroll, but now he waited, refilling their drink horns with mead and his own cup with water as the conversation wore on into the night. Finally Weath succumbed to weariness, and Edgtho followed some time later. As soon as they could hear Edgtho's quiet snores join Weath's louder ones, Ahmed stopped talking in mid-sentence and stood.

"Come away from the fire," he murmured, and began walking into the darkness without waiting to see if Herger would follow.

Herger did, of course.

After several paces the light from the fire was gone, and he could only rely on the sounds of Ahmed ahead of him to know where he was. Still, he walked blindly until he suddenly felt something touch his chest and arms. At first he thought it was a tree branch, and raised his arms protectively, then realized it was Ahmed's hands guiding him to stop and turn.

Herger let out a breath in a rush as he was pulled hard against Ahmed's body. Wrapping his arms around him, he felt a tree against his hands. Ahmed's mouth pressed against the side of his neck and slid upward, tongue trailing wetly, until teeth seized his earlobe. Herger's groin pulsed hard with energetic blood. He gasped and groaned quietly, pressing harder against Ahmed, tilting his head to allow the easiest access. The warm, wet pulls of Ahmed's mouth on his ear were reminiscent of that mouth sucking his cock for him, and he hardened swiftly. Soon Herger felt Ahmed press a thigh between his legs and give him something solid to grind against, and Ahmed's hands firmly held him by the buttocks.

Finally Ahmed released his ear, and spoke into it.

"Tomorrow." His voice was husky. Herger ground into his thigh and moaned, sweating now.

"Ahmed, now—"

"Tomorrow you will take me. You will bring oil and penetrate me."

Herger's cock spasmed. He sobbed and brought a hand between them, trying to untie his pants. He was _hard_ , and so close to coming; now he could finally feel himself capable of it again; it was so close he could practically sink his teeth into it.

And Ahmed pushed him away.

"Finish yourself," he said, his voice sounding oddly small now that it was removed from Herger's ear. "I know you can. I will leave you to it. Do not return until you have." And he walked away.

Herger stumbled to the tree and braced an arm against it, pillowing his head in his sleeve, and finished untying his pants enough to get his prick out. In four strokes he finished it, his first climax in months, since their last night in Constantinople. It went on and on, spasms continuing even after he had nothing left. Eventually he had to let go of himself; even the air felt too sensitive. He leaned his chest and hip against the tree in a dizzy spell.

When he had regained his breath, he lifted his head and looked at the faint flicker of firelight between the trees. Ahmed had learned something in recent weeks, some secret to releasing Herger from his crippling fears and anxieties. This new confidence and tendency to command was a mysterious and exciting thing Herger had needed without knowing it.

The euphoria was fully on him now. He laughed to himself and tucked his prick away, stifling a wince. Then he wiped his hand on some moss and headed back to the fire. When he reached it, he saw that Ahmed was on his bedroll, turned away from him.

Herger slept deeply and awoke slowly. His first thoughts were of the night before with Ahmed, and he began idly fantasizing what they would do while Edgtho and Weath were away. But when he finally opened his eyes, he saw Weath sitting at the fireside, eating and staring off into space.

Herger pushed himself upright and saw Weath look at him. "Where is Ahmed?" he asked without preliminaries.

Weath jerked his head over his shoulder and kept eating. "Coruna," he said between mouthfuls of meat. "Edgtho needed his purse to pay the traders for passage, and Eben wouldn't part with it."

Herger kicked off the blanket and stood, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His head swam; he had risen too quickly. He kept his hands on his head, holding it until his vision cleared and he could compose his thoughts. "We have found passage already?"

Weath swallowed and tossed a bone over his shoulder, then reached for his drink horn. "We leave on the afternoon tide. Get something to eat; you and I have to break camp and meet with them."

So much for a day alone with Ahmed. Herger sat and helped himself to breakfast, his mood quickly turning sour.

The gods were toying with him. After all this time and he finally regained some pleasure with Ahmed, only to have the fates steal it away again. It was enough to make a man want to reject his gods completely. But that was a thought considered for amusement's sake; he would never tempt further punishment by rejecting them, particularly Loki.

With Herger awake, Weath imagined he had a conversation companion, and began a steady stream of meaningless chatter. Herger ignored him for as long as he could, but one of Weath's talents was in keeping the mood of the group cheerful and high. Herger may be named for his good cheer, but he usually had some help from Weath, especially when his mood was low. As a result, he was soon released from his bad humors and laughing with his friend again.

They broke camp and rode to La Coruña, where Weath showed him to the docks. Edgtho and Ahmed were waiting for them on one ship, and helped them load the horses and their packs and saddle bags. It took a few hours to get settled, and by the time they were finished, the tide was at its height. Herger had time to stow himself out of the way, and then they shoved off.

Ahmed sat next to him, gripping a rope tightly. He had a smile for Herger, but Herger could sense his tension at being at sea yet again. Turning his body to hide them, Herger put his hand on Ahmed's knee and squeezed reassuringly.

"Just a few weeks, maybe two months. We'll stop often for trade."

Ahmed nodded. "Hardly any time at all," he murmured, forcing a smile.  


 

The first stop was in Francia, at a sleepy port village. Onshore the party found an inn with herbs hanging on the lintel above a blue door, and inside a kind crone served a hot meal while Weath bounced the woman's great-grandchildren on his knee.

Herger could tell that Ahmed was subdued. Although he had not been plagued with the horrible seasickness that had kept him confined to a cot for weeks on end, he never felt well on a boat. Herger hoped that, like their short journey to Riga, he would again be comfortable with the slow pace and short distances of trade shipping. They did have a long distance to go before arriving home, and Herger felt sorry for making Ahmed endure it.

On the other hand, both of them had endured some miserable journeys together. He would be fine, Herger told himself, absently watching Edgtho and Ahmed talk about the food in Al-Jaza'ir.

It was a Wednesday, Óðinn's day, and on this day the town had music with their midday meal. A fiddler came into the inn playing as he walked, and the children ran to meet him and dance as he circled the small room. All of them smiled to hear the cheerful tune and watch the children play, until two girls came back and grabbed Weath to pull him into their dance. Immediately more people rose and joined in, and the fiddler led the group outside to the beach. Herger followed.

There were people all throughout the dunes, dresses and coats and hair whipped by the wind. He laughed at the bracing chill and wrapped his cloak around himself, blowing hair out of his face as he watched the festivities.

Eventually he sensed a presence at his side, and turning, saw Ahmed watching him.

"We may be treated to a show by Thor!" Herger pointed to the horizon. Dark clouds wreathed it, and as they watched, lightning flicked tongues of fire.

Ahmed looked at the sight impassively. Watching him, Herger felt a surge of familiarity: a feeling that he would forever remember the look of Ahmed against a dark sky, wind whipping his headdress and robes, eyes dark as he looked at the choppy seas. After some time Ahmed caught him watching and gave him a smile, a warm private look that never failed to make Herger feel better.

He left Ahmed on the dunes and found the ship captain, who confirmed his idea: they would wait out the storm, as much as it hurt them to ignore this wind. The brunt of the storm, when it arrived, would be too much for the little ship and its heavy weight of goods.

Herger shook his hand and went back to the dunes. There were fewer people dancing now, but the fiddler remained, and Ahmed was still there watching. Herger readjusted his cloak and stepped close to Ahmed's ear to be heard.

"We wait until the weather passes. Shall we find a room?"

Ahmed looked pleased at not having to get back to the tossing ship, but shook his head. "We must conserve funds. Is there not a barn or stable, or someone with a warm floor?"

"I will inquire." And Ahmed came with him; rain was starting to fall, and the last of the villagers were going back indoors. As they walked further inland, they found Edgtho and Weath, who had already obtained shelter in a potter's shop. With the kiln lit, it would be warm all night.

They stowed the horses and gathered their things, then went to meet the potter. They found him at the inn, where the festivities had gone: it did not stop for a little weather, it seemed. Ahmed bought him a drink at Herger's behest and they spent some time talking, but it did not last long. The language barrier was wearisome, and Herger noticed Ahmed getting sleepy. He had not been getting enough rest on the ship, and he was now paying for the lack.

Herger made it known to the potter that he and the Arab were retiring for the night. Edgtho and Weath decided to stay, so the two bade good evening and parted.

It was warm in the shop; almost too warm. Ahmed arranged their cloaks and some blankets on the floor, and they undressed to shirts and pants. Herger chose to lay down first, and watched Ahmed unravel his headdress. His shirt clung to him with sweat, and Herger could clearly see his back move and stretch as he worked. By the time Ahmed sat down, Herger had turned onto his side and folded an arm under his head.

"I want to ask you about the other night," he started quietly. Ahmed turned and examined his face for a few seconds. He looked worried, but after a moment he nodded and lay down to face Herger.

Herger spoke haltingly. He'd thought about what he'd wanted to say, but he was not used to conversation like this, and chose his words carefully.

"I did not expect…finding pleasure. In that way. What made you do what you did?"

Ahmed thought for a moment, but it was clear that he understood his actions better than Herger did. He answered easily. "I had been thinking…what was it that had changed since the last time we had lain together? It was not the traveling or the time, but Siraj."

"What did he have to—"

"Patience. Let me finish." Ahmed smiled to soften his rebuke. Herger grinned and nodded for him to continue.

"I thought, you need to remember what it is like to be in control of yourself, to not have to answer to any man. So I took you to a state you wanted to be in, then told you to go further on your own. You needed to remember what it was like to have that pleasure, and not be forced to it or responsible." And then Ahmed ducked his head, an embarrassed smile playing on his mouth.

Herger shook his head, amazed. How had he known? Ahmed had arrived at a truth that felt more pure than clear water from a mountain spring, or a fresh breeze across a sweaty brow. Herger felt a chill across his arms and neck. He laughed in wonder, trying to think of what to say, then shook his head again.

"I am only glad it worked," Ahmed added with another smile.

"As am I!" Moving closer, Herger touched Ahmed's chest lightly, feeling the heat beneath his palm. "I only wish we were alone. As much as I have longed for more company these last months, I yearn just the same for a few hours without Edgtho and Weath."

"We spent too much time with only ourselves," Ahmed agreed solemnly.

"I'm glad you agree." Grinning, Herger slid his hand across Ahmed's chest as he leaned in for a kiss. Their lips touched lazily as a nipple hardened under Herger's palm. He brushed his hand over it, letting the fine shirt stimulate it. Ahmed turned his head away a while later, groaning softly.

"Please, let us stop now."

Herger nodded, dropping his hand. "I've had enough of blue balls for a while." He forced a laugh.

They separated, adjusting their makeshift mattress for comfort and warmth. Herger felt awkward sleeping at a distance from Ahmed; they had become accustomed to intimacy when they were in this sort of mood, and forced chastity was not sitting well.

Although sleep came slowly, Herger was happy to wake up hours later feeling refreshed. The storm had cleared and the ship's captain was preparing to make sail again.

As they continued along the coast, the ship made better distance than Herger had anticipated. The harvest had come and gone early this year, while they had still been in Constantinople, so the trade business had died down for the season. The ship made fewer stops and unloaded most of its cargo quickly along the Francia shore. And Herger was grateful for the speed for another reason: the rougher seas of autumn had made Ahmed ill again. When they landed Jutland in half the time Herger had planned for, they were all grateful to be home, but none so happy for soil as Ahmed.

"How familiar this is," Ahmed remarked as they unloaded from the ship. He was splashing onshore with Hross and Asiya, just as he had done a year earlier, when Buliwyf had been leading them.

"Hopefully we will be without monsters this time." Weath tossed Herger his saddlebag and grabbed a rope to swing onto the beach. "And that chestnut lassie from Hrothgar's kingdom will be happy to see me again." He made a lewd expression and garnered laughter from Herger and Edgtho.

They mounted and began making their way inland, going directly to Hrothgar's kingdom to make their obedience while on his land. They were received well. A feast was quickly prepared, and Haltaf—the boy they had left behind when the warriors had disbanded—greeted them with much news and joy to share. He had aged quickly, Herger was surprised to see. The youth's vitality and growing strength, in physical and mental senses, made Herger feel even more like an old man.

Olga was there too, and paid close attention to Ahmed as the feast wore on. Herger was not sure whether to be amused or irritated. Olga was not easily deterred, but Ahmed seemed mostly oblivious to her advances. At last Herger turned to Ahmed and put his mouth close to his ear, whispering, "That milk cow is making eyes at you," and grinned, knowing Olga watched them. She saw his grin and cast her gaze down.

Hrothgar seemed to have regained some of his youth in the time they had been absent. The freedom from the wendol's terrorizing made him a man happier with the world. He called down the table to them, his voice robust and commanding.

"If you have come back such a distance to brag of your deeds, Herger, why have I not heard them yet?"

Herger bowed his head amidst laughter, then stood. Weath, Edgtho, and Ahmed exchanged grins, anticipating the tale.

"Far to the south is the city of Cordoba. It is as filled with people as fields have stones. People from many lands and ancestors congregate there, sharing their wealth of knowledge and goods."

"And whores!" someone interjected. Everyone in the room laughed, including Herger. He started again, speaking over the noise until it died.

"As I walked the city with my companions, I looked for a chance to prove that the Northmen are better than any man. Stronger and faster warriors, more virile, more beautiful. It would not be a difficult task," he continued with a laugh. "Most people there are ugly and stupid!

"Finally I saw a ring of men, and recognized the sound of fighting. I drew my sword and advanced. Within the ring were two men. One of them died before my eyes, killed brutally the other. He lifted him completely off the ground and drove him down headfirst, like a pike, breaking his neck until his face was in his chest."

It didn't matter that he was exaggerating. The crowd loved the story, and expected to hear nothing less than glory from their kinsman.

"The other man was a giant, as tall as the doors to this great hall. He had black hair hanging down like tree roots and muscles like carved wood. He stood victorious, snorting steam and his eyes glowing red like coals, for he had a fire within him." There was utter silence in the room. Herger looked around and saw that he had even captured the attention of a babe suckling at its mother's tit.

"Yet I looked upon him without fear, and challenged him to a battle. He accepted, but said that I would have to wait a number of days. He had to prepare," Herger explained. The crowd cheered.

"When the day of our battle came, I had to search the city for the coward. Finally I went to his home and entered. He was huddled in his bed, the covers pulled over his eyes. I tore the blanket off and gutted him in one stroke, then severed his head from his shoulders. He managed to scream once before his throat was gone. His eyes bulged at me in shock, but they saw that the Northman had won this contest!"

Herger's voice was nearly drowned by the crowd's cheering and laughter. Cups banged on the table, sloshing drink as their owners expressed their approval. The men around Herger stood to clap him on the shoulder and offer their respect. Herger returned the kindnesses of them all, then saw Hrothgar lift his own cup.

"To our peoples' hero, Herger!"

With the cheers, Herger could hear Ahmed's laugh distinctly.  


 

The story spread rapidly through the small kingdom: a minstrel said he would take the story throughout the land as he visited the other kingdoms. It was more than Herger could ask for.

After several days, Herger readied their horses yet again. This time he did not tell Ahmed of his plans, not wanting to raise his hopes or incite doubts. They said their goodbyes to their friends, Herger assuring them that they would not go far.

They journeyed for a day and a night, then another day. By then they had left the outer farms and settlements behind, and the ride was quiet and solitary.

Peaceful, Herger thought to himself as they rode in leisurely silence. It felt strange to be home after such a tumultuous year, but good, too.  


 

The path Herger took led through a dense copse of firs and shouldered a steep hill. He could hear Asiya snuffling behind him; she sounded nervous, and he could understand that, with the things that lived in these woods. He’d been away too long to keep the wildness at bay.

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

Herger shook his head, not saying anything but knowing Ahmed could see him. He smiled in pleasant anticipation, and then they reached the tree line. He headed for a hut in the middle of the clearing.

“Is this yours?” Ahmed asked as they dismounted.

“My father’s.” There was fencing, and they slung reins over a pole to keep the horses there. Behind the hut was a small barn. Herger pulled off his gauntlets.

He was not pleased. The farm looked maintained, and smoke came from the hut. By rights, this land should be empty, because it belonged to him alone.

Ahmed sensed his dark mood and said nothing as Herger pounded on the door. It soon opened; someone had been waiting.

A thin man stood in the doorway, holding a dagger loosely in one hand. Behind him Herger could see a woman holding a baby to her chest with another child clinging to her leg. The smell of food came from inside.

"What do you want?" the man asked. He sounded weary and scared.

"What do you think you are doing? This is my land. My father's land."

The man tightened his grip on his dagger. Herger flexed his hands, thinking of the weights of his own blades, and how fast he could reach them.

"The man who lived here died years ago. No one claimed it after he went on to the next life."

"That does not matter. It is mine."

"Prove it!"

Herger threw down his gloves and reached to his hip. The man skittered back inside, holding his dagger out as Herger drew his own. The woman screamed, scaring the babes into crying.

Herger felt a hand grip his shoulder, grabbing onto layers of cloth and fur. He looked back at Ahmed, who was watching him with a pale look.

"Herger, do not—" Ahmed couldn't finish.

"What do you want—" The man interrupted.

"It's mine!" Herger shouted again, turning back. "You steal property from dead men? You think you have all this for nothing, no payment?"

"You want payment?" The man's voice firmed. He made a threatening look at his wife, who put her hand over her baby's mouth to stop the cries.

"Herger, we do not need—"

"Yes, payment." Herger ignored Ahmed. "Your wife."

"No!" the woman screamed. The man blanched.

"Your son."

"Please…"

"Herger…"

"You have gold? Horses?" Herger put his dagger away. The man was poor and stupid, like most of the wretches in Cordoba. It would not honor Herger to kill him, and Herger wanted nothing of a useless wife or a baby that wasn't from his loins.

"One horse, that is all. Please, we need him to work…"

"Shut your mouth. You have nothing to repay this debt. Do you even have hospitality?"  


 

The dinner was a strained, silent meal. The woman wept silently as she served food and held the children by the tiny fire. Ahmed watched Herger with apprehension. The farmer had his head bowed, and Herger watched them all as he ate.

At last his belly was full and his mood relaxed with mead. He walked to the door, Ahmed and the farmer following. Herger gestured for Ahmed to leave first, then looked back at the farmer.

"Work this land as long as you like," he said quietly.

"You are welcome whenever you return." The farmer knew what a gift Herger had given, and the gratitude in his face was nearly too much to look at. Herger nodded and left quickly.  


 

They went back the way they had come, but did not go far. It was dark and Herger was weary. He stopped Hross and dismounted, muttering something about making camp.

Ahmed helped him wordlessly. Only when they were on their bedrolls next to the fire did he speak.

"Would you have killed him?"

"I was angry."

"I know that. Answer my question."

Herger snorted and rolled over, adjusting his furs. Ahmed's eyes showed bright white in the darkness of his face.

"No, I would not have killed him. What would have been the point?"

Ahmed nodded, looking into the fire and going into thought. He murmured, "I am glad of the outcome."

Herger snorted again and shut his eyes. He was not glad. What were they supposed to do now?  


 

In the morning Ahmed asked him the same question. Herger was cross and snapped that he should not have to make all the decisions, like Ahmed was some woman or horse for him to lead around. Ahmed frowned at him and suggested they go back to Hrothgar and ask for advice.

"And look like we are lost children, running home to the comforting tit? That would hardly be the thing for a man like me to do. I might as well cut off my nose!"

But they returned to the kingdom.

Weath was glad to see them. Edgtho had gone as well, he told them. He had family to see, many days' ride. Perhaps they would see him again one day, but the shrunken group agreed that the end of their little band of warriors had been long awaited.

They talked for long hours, of many things, but mostly of the future for Herger and Ahmed. Herger did not remember who suggested that he and Ahmed return to the trade routes, but no one disputed the idea. Details were added: when the trade ships would return in the spring, what Herger and Ahmed could do to winter in the kingdom, how far they could get until they acquired more gold.

Dawn broke and sent them to bed, hoarse with speaking and dizzy with weariness, but all had their minds on voyaging.

Herger lay on his bedroll and listened to Weath's snoring. On his other side, Ahmed had rolled closer in sleep, and Herger was comforted by the press on his side.

He would not have made a good farmer anyway, he thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Herger truly did make a rotten farmer, but that didn't stop Hrothgar from putting him to work in the fields.

In truth, he could have refused. He was no slave, nor a permanent member of Hrothgar's kingdom. His service the year before in driving away the wendol had put Hrothgar in his debt, not the other way around. But for the winter Herger had had little to do, and needed something to make himself useful. The odd jobs had run out by the spring, and then there was nothing but crop-raising to be done.

Ahmed had it better, in some ways. The kingdom's tanner was an old man, the only one with experience in the trade, and needed to pass on his skills. He had asked Ahmed and one of the native youths to learn how to treat hides and pelts, and prepare them for trading. Herger had taken part in hunting while the snows were deepest, and many animals' winter coats were now thick, glorious patches of white around Ahmed's little work hut.

He was one of the few to work a craft outside of the great hall, because of the smell of treating hides and pelts. His hut was far from the hall, at the opposite end of the fields. Herger wondered if he'd taken up the work partly for the privacy.

He pulled off his gloves as he approached the hut, noting the stream of smoke from the roof. If Ahmed's fire was still going, he had not yet gone to the hall for the nightly meal.

He entered and saw Ahmed bent over the fleshing beam, dragging his double-handled blade in circular motions. As he watched, Ahmed tossed the blade to the ground between his feet and began to release the pelt, turning it on the beam to work a different section. His motions were smooth and quick. He'd picked up the work fast.

"I might never have thought of you doing this," he murmured. Ahmed started and looked over his shoulder, then smiled. Sweat ran down his face and the front of his shirt was grimy with grease and other disgusting fluids. At least it was an old woven thing, donated for this cause.

"After a while you do not mind the filth, and the activity keeps me warm. I am almost done for today; will you wait?"

Herger nodded and uncovered a stool, lifting off a high stack of finished pelts. He recognized many rabbits, some fox and mink, and sections of a bear Weath had helped hunt down. They had gone into his winter den to find him, an activity that had reminded Herger strongly of Ahmed's help in finding the wendol's cave.

The little hunt stank of the untreated pelts, with the fat and other filth that had to be scraped off, as well as the soaking hides that would be tanned and prepared for leather working. But it was also warm with the large fire needed to keep the cauldrons boiling, and the work was paid in kind. Ahmed would be able to leave with his own set of luxurious furs, and plenty of leather for whatever he needed. Herger was planning on having some women in the kingdom make Ahmed a set of leathers for rain, and the fur-lined cloak and gloves he already owned could use some cleaning and repair.

In the time Herger had been lost in thought, looking around the hut, Ahmed had finished the scraping. He stretched the pelt over a rack to dry and then went to a bucket against the far wall, stripping off his work shirt as he went. He washed up quickly, twitching his shoulders a little as he shivered.

Herger watched the muscles of his back and arms move. Ahmed had put on weight over the winter, and it wasn't fat. His transformation from unskilled poet to self-sufficient warrior seemed complete.

"Will you hand me my shirt?"

Herger blinked. Ahmed had turned with a scrap of cloth in his hands, drying off. His chest, shoulders, and arms moved with every twist of his hands. Herger forced himself not to stare, and looked around until he found the garment and handed it over.

With the approach of spring, the weather had finally warmed enough to go out of doors without risking death. After dressing, Ahmed left his cloak behind, while Herger shoved his gloves under his belt and led the way to the great hall.

They had a quiet meal at the far side of the hall's main room, avoiding the drunks and fools. Herger did not have much to say, and these days Ahmed was too tired from a day of work to attempt any conversation. They both were at peace with this, Herger realized as he watched Ahmed eat. Ahmed was at ease with a great many things, these days.

"Might we sleep in your hut tonight?" he murmured, putting down his cup of water. "The ships may be here in a month, if the minstrels are right."

"It would be nice to enjoy a bed while we can," Ahmed agreed.

"And warm."

Ahmed grinned, still a bright flash of white, like the snow rabbit's fur. "I thought I was the one demanding heat all the time. You are used to this climate."

"But how am I to get you bare-assed if you're cold?"

Ahmed only raised an eyebrow and went back to eating. Yes, quite at ease.

They finished their food and gave their obedience to Hrothgar and Weilew, his queen. It was colder outside now, so they crossed their arms tightly and made the walk with brisk steps, moving through the gathering ground fog. The fog no longer made Herger nervous. He knew now what things lived in the mist.

In the hut, Herger helped Ahmed take the cauldron off its hook, then Ahmed stoked the fire. The coals were already glowing hot enough to repel a man at a distance, and the fresh wood caught immediately. When it was snapping and popping, Ahmed began to undress.

Herger looked up from preparing a bed of furs. He'd dragged out the mattress Ahmed sometimes slept on, and the pelts would make it warmer and softer. He laid down one more fox and then stood, watching Ahmed in the firelight.

Ahmed was distracted, watching the flames as he balanced on one foot and worked off his other boot. He was bare to the waist again. While his pants were loose, the fabric was also thin, and pressed against certain curves as he stood with his leg raised. Herger watched him finish with one boot and then work on the other, never swaying.

When his feet were bare, Ahmed moved his hands to his pants and finally looked away from the fire. He saw Herger watching and smiled, pulling on the drawstring slowly.

"If you do not have oil, we can use some soap and water," he offered.

It made Herger shiver, listening to Ahmed plan such things without prompting. It had taken several tries for him to get used to being fucked, but now he was finally enjoying it. Herger himself was still not used to the heady pleasure of it.

"I refilled the vessel."

"Cooking oil?"

"Yes."

Ahmed's pants and small clothes dropped to the dirt floor. "Produce it, then."

Herger knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. Ever since that night outside La Coruña, Ahmed had had this assurance about sex. It still dazed Herger, even months later. He got stupid and slow, and Ahmed grew ever more amused.

While he'd been staring, Ahmed had crossed the room and pressed Herger down to the mattress. With great efficiency, he relieved Herger of all his clothing. The furs felt like Valhalla under him.

"The vessel?" Ahmed reminded him. Herger lay back and watched Ahmed prop himself on an arm, bending over him. Ahmed's shoulders bunched. Herger wanted to sink his teeth into them.

"…In my saddle bags."

"Which are not here." Ahmed shook his head but rose and retrieved the soap and basin good-naturedly. Herger stretched out and arranged himself on the bed, content to watch him move about.

Ahmed brought the basin back and worked up a lather between his hands, then applied them. His fingers, always skilled with a pen or brush, were even stronger, calloused and tough like tree branches. They knew how to stretch and thrust, to find the spots that caused a shudder or a curse.

Herger watched him stretch to reach, chest rising. His cock jerked once and started swelling. The realization that Ahmed was enjoying it was intensely arousing. Herger thought of how Ahmed's fingers would be pushing and stretching, and he reached down and touched himself, stroking slowly and working back his foreskin as he hardened.

Finally Ahmed relaxed and reached for the soap again. He nudged aside Herger's hands and worked Herger's prick between his palms, still efficient but gentle, too. Now Herger laid his head back and let himself feel instead of see, feel the slide of soap down to his root and Ahmed's firm hand. Heat was growing between them. The air seemed heavy, and the fur beneath them tickled his sides and arms.

Ahmed's hand stopped. There was a light jerk on his prick and sounds of rustling; Ahmed moving his position, Herger saw when he opened his eyes. Ahmed had straddled his thighs and was looking down at Herger's cock, still in hand.

"Wait," Herger said as he sat up, muscles straining as he reached for Ahmed's neck. They leaned together and met lips, Ahmed shifting on Herger's lap.

Herger felt a tongue drive into his mouth and then that hand begin moving on his cock again, tongue and hand thrusting and stroking in a smooth rhythm. He dug his fingers into Ahmed's thighs and felt himself start to shake, the strain of sitting half-upright and Ahmed tugging on his cock now too much to bear. Ahmed looked disappointed when Herger broke the kiss and lay back, but then a smile curved on his wet lips as Herger panted and thrust up into his fist. Sweat started mixing with soap and Ahmed's grip was loosening.

"Please," Herger gasped. Without hesitation Ahmed removed his hand and moved his hips, positioning himself in practiced moves. Herger felt the testing press of cockhead against hole, and then the hot cinching muscles closing over him. Now Ahmed held his own cock, stroking unevenly as he lowered himself, mouth lax and breath jerking out in gasps.

Herger pushed his hands away and took over stroking, finding all those sensitive places on his cock as Ahmed found the rhythm of rising and falling hips. In truth Herger needed something to distract himself from the perfect grip of Ahmed's body, and the sight of him wantonly riding him, and putting his attention to pleasuring Ahmed was a good enough challenge.

And it drove them both on—Herger's knowing grip in turn made Ahmed ride faster, and the feel of his own cock driving into Ahmed's body was sheer ecstasy. For a long breathless moment Herger felt himself reach the height of his own pleasure, suspended there, in agony but unable to find relief. And then Ahmed tightened and sank down again, his body taking Herger in to the root, and Herger cried out with the violence of his climax.

He lost himself for a long moment, only aware of waves of seizing pleasure that robbed all of his control and awareness. When he could move and see again, he realized Ahmed had pried his hand off his cock and was holding him firmly by the wrist.

"All right?" Ahmed asked, seeing Herger open his eyes.

Herger pulled his hand free and seized Ahmed by the hips, pulling until Ahmed would move, tilting his head down in offering. Ahmed scrambled up and crouched on all fours, lowering his hips for Herger to take him into his mouth. Herger licked and sucked and used both hands, stroking Ahmed's loosened wet hole and tight balls, urging him to the same release. Ahmed thrust deep and fast, unusually so. His control was slipping. Herger was slowly stripping away Ahmed's manners and patience, turning him into a man who sought his own pleasure with every deep thrust. It was working. Ahmed soon succumbed to his own tremors and flood of release.

Ahmed rolled onto his side and Herger gasped for air, each weak as wet rags. They said nothing until they had collected themselves, and then Ahmed fetched a cloth to use in the basin.

When they were clean and dry, Herger found a blanket while Ahmed put a final log on the fire. They curled back up on the bed and warmed themselves between the soft wool and silky furs, legs twining and heads resting close together. Herger felt fingers in his hair and ran his own down Ahmed's back in soothing strokes. He wanted to say something, some small thing to convey his happiness and peace and contentment, but he couldn't find any words.

"Yes," Ahmed said, and they slept.  


 

Hrothgar had reports from his scouts that the trade ships were two days down the coast. Ahmed and Herger had readied themselves, giving away or selling possessions they could not take with them. The night before Herger had given Ahmed the set of leathers he'd had made, and in turn Ahmed gave him a fine new shirt of the lightest woven wool.

On this night they were at the great hall again, accepting wishes of good luck from their friends, eating up a feast and drinking every drop poured for them. In the midst of the revelry, someone called for a tale.

Ahmed exchanged a glance with Herger and was about to rise, but Herger was lighter on his feet. He stood and threw the contents of his cup into his mouth, wiped his beard, and bellowed for attention. When more heads had turned his way, he began.

"There was once a herald who was such a blusterer that whenever he saw anyone come riding towards him on the road, he would roar from afar: 'Off the road! Off the road! Here comes the king's herald himself!'"

As he paused, Herger saw heads nodding around the room. This story was well-known and loved.

"Once when he was carrying on like this, he met the king. He did not recognize him from afar.

"'Off the road! Off the road!' he shouted a long way off; but the king kept on riding straight ahead. So, for once, the parson had to turn his horse aside. And when the king came alongside he said, 'Tomorrow you shall have to come to the court. And if you can't answer three questions I am going to put to you, you shall lose both frock and standard for the sake of your pride!'"

There was a general laugh at that. Everyone liked stories about cleverness and trickery. Herger grinned and went on.

"This was quite a different tune from what the herald was used to. Bluster and bellow he could, and carry on worse than bad, too. But question-and-answer was out of his field. So he went to the page, who was said to have a better head on his shoulders than the herald, and told him that _he_ wasn't keen on going, 'for one fool can ask more than ten wise men can answer,' he said. And so he got the page to go in his place.

"Well, the page went; and he came to the royal manor dressed in the parson's frock and carrying his standard. The king met him out in the courtyard, wearing his crown and carrying a gilded staff, and looking so grand he fairly shone.

"'So you're there, are you?' said the king.

"Yes, he was…that was sure enough." This brought another big laugh.

"'Now, tell me first,' said the king, 'how far is it from east to west?'

"'That's a day's journey, that is,' said the page.

"'How so?' asked the king.

"'Well, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and does it nicely in a day,' said the page.

"'All right,' said the king, 'but tell me now, what do you think I'm worth, just as you see me here?'

"'Let's see, the ring Draupnir, that Brokkr gave to Óðinn, dripped eight identical rings every nine days,' said the page. 'So I must not judge you to be more than seven rings, for no man is greater than Óðinn's worth.'"

Someone in the hall shouted that it was a kingly sum, and a bellow of agreement rang out. Herger waited until the clattering cups and yelling voices quieted again.

"'Well,' said the king, ‘since you're so wise on all counts, tell me what I'm thinking now!'

"'Oh, I suppose you're thinking that it's the herald who's standing here before you. But I'm sorry to say you're wrong, for it's your page!'

"'Aha! Then go home with you, and _you_ be the herald and let _him_ be the page!‘"

The ending was as well-known as the rest of the story, so almost before Herger had finished, cheers rang out. The page's cleverness and the haughty herald's usurpation were favorite elements of the story, and everyone in the hall celebrated the reversal of fortune. Pride was important to Herger's kinsmen, but cleverness was more important.

The drinking and eating started up again, but at the same time someone shouted for the Arab to share a story of his own. Having made more friends during this stay in Hrothgar's court, a dozen voices took up the demand.

Eventually Ahmed stood, raising his hands for quiet. Then he raised his voice and began.

"Once a man named Sa'di grew tired of the company of his friends, and went off into the desert of Jerusalem to be alone. But he was captured as a slave, and forced to rake a road for a Frank in his kingdom.

"Fortunately, a man who knew Sa'di, an Halab chieftain, happened to pass that way and took sight of him. He took pity on Sa'di and paid his ransom of ten _dinars_. Sa'di went back with him to Halab.

"Now, he had a daughter, and it was not long before he had married Sa'di to the daughter with a dowry of one hundred _dinars_. What a disaster she turned out to be!"

Everyone in the room burst into laughter, even the women. Ahmed chuckled and waited for a moment, then raised his voice to a shout to be heard.

"She was ill-tempered, always quarreling, never obedient. She made life hell with her caustic tongue. Once, at the height of a quarrel, she screamed: ‘Are you not the man my father bought from the Franks for ten _dinars_?'

"'Yes,' he replied. ‘He bought me for ten _dinars_ and sold me to you for one hundred!'"

Herger marveled at the sound hitting his ears as Ahmed sat down. Even after the hollering and laughter had died down, men started clapping Ahmed on the shoulder and congratulating him on the fine tale.

And immediately other men stood to share their stories, trying to best each other in humor or cleverness or the most dramatic feats of bravery. Herger eventually got up twice more, and Ahmed three times. Mead flowed into their cups as they shared tales and entertainment. Dancing and music helped all expend energy, while some men pulled their women onto their laps for other activities.

Eventually Herger and Ahmed were hoarse, and loose-limbed with mead, and the sun was rising outside. Servant girls took all the single men to quieter rooms off the hall, giving them blankets for beds.

Herger and Ahmed were led into a storeroom for their sleeping space, and dropped to the floor like a pair of old dogs. Herger crossed his arms behind his head as Ahmed rolled onto his side and used an elbow as a pillow. Soon Herger felt a hand drop onto his stomach and rub lightly.

"Good night, Northman."

Herger's eyes dropped shut, but he still smiled and turned his head toward Ahmed. In his mind's eye he saw him lying next to him, but on a bed of green grass. The creek in Francia burbled quietly, inviting them to partake of its cool refreshment.

"Good night, Little Brother."


End file.
